The One He Dismissed Became The One He Died For novel Chapter 142

Miles grabbed a dry towel and tossed it over Claire's head.

"Dry off completely when you're done. Don't catch a cold."

"I'm going downstairs for the first aid kit."

Peeking through the folds of the towel, Claire watched his slightly rushed retreat and let out a smug little smile.

Down at the front desk, the innkeeper dug out a small medical box and handed it to Miles, offering some unsolicited wisdom.

"A girl like that is one in a million, son. You better hold on tight."

Miles took the box, his hand pausing for a fraction of a second. He didn't argue. He just gave a curt nod.

Just as he stepped back into the second-floor bedroom, the overhead light flickered and died with a sharp pop. The power was out.

The entire motel was plunged into pitch darkness.

A loud thud echoed from the bathroom! A second later, Claire let out a sharp gasp of pain.

"Ah!"

"Claire!"

Relying on pure memory, Miles bolted blindly toward the bathroom door.

"What happened?"

"I'm fine," she hissed, her voice tight with suppressed pain. "I slipped. Is the power out?"

"Yeah, the storm is too heavy. Can you get up?"

Dead silence from inside.

A long moment later, her voice drifted out, small and heartbreakingly pathetic.

"No. Miles, I think I sprained my ankle. I can't move."

Panic spiked in his chest. "Wrap yourself in a towel. I'm coming in to carry you out."

"Okay..." Claire murmured vaguely, groaning through the pain.

The room was swallowed by absolute blackness, save for a pathetic sliver of moonlight filtering through the window.

Miles pulled open the bathroom door, and a wave of warm, humid steam washed over him, carrying her signature sweet, intoxicating scent.

There were no windows in the bathroom; the darkness was absolute. Acting on pure instinct, Miles crouched down, hands outstretched to find her.

"I'm right here," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

Miles reached forward, his fingertips grazing a patch of warm skin.

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